When In Rome Er, Spain
by destinykeyblade
Summary: Funny thing about traveling to a different country? It doesn't always go the way you planned. Which, I'm sure, is the exact reason that the two of us are currently in the wrong country hanging out with our new favorite people. AmericaxOC SpainxOC Rated T, all warnings inside
1. Enter: Everyone

Hey there, peeps! _Comment ca-va?_ ...Fail much, me? What I meant was, how's it going?

France: Zat's what you said, _chéri!_ Onhonhon~!

Me: -.-" This is what I get for trying to learn French. ANYWAYS. Welcome-

France: _Bienvenue!_

Me: *tick mark* -to my latest fic about my latest obsession, Hetalia. Before I say anything else about it, I must point out that this fanfiction contains the following: curse-word substitutes, drug and alcohol use, continuous suggestive humor/sexual references, and implied sexual intercourse.

Italy: What does 'intercourse' mean, vee~?

France: Ah, _mon petit Italie!_ It means-

Me: *raises voice* ANYWAYS, this fanfiction started out as a gift-fic for Skulls of SkullsandDaggers, (though it quickly became something for both of us ;P) and quite honestly, she helped me write some of this... because I know nothing of the ways of marijuana. **{Any sections that were written by Skulls will be in bold.}** Also, if I can get her off her lazy butt and maker her write, the implied activities mentioned above may become another fanfiction, most likely titled "Behind Closed Doors." ...But again, that's if I can get her off her france long enough to type.

France: Did you mention _moi_?

Me: No. Shut up or do the disclaimer.

France: *le sigh* destinykeyblade owns nothing but ze original characters Nikki and Angel - well, zat, and ze amour she secretly has for America.

Me: , Well it's not secret anymore, Frog! *sighs* Anyways, reviews are always loved, future chapters will have less babbling and more pervy jokes that any good Hetalia fangirl will laugh her butt off at in the A/N, and please enjoy the fanfiction!

* * *

**When In Rome- Er, Spain**

You've all heard the phrase, 'When in Rome', right? Right. Well, it has been my experience that this goes for whatever country you find yourself in - no matter where you are, the best way to survive in a foreign environment is to do as those around you do. ...I take that back. The exception to this rule... is kind of a long story. Siddown and get comfy, because if this is gonna make ANY SENSE WHATSOEVER, you'll need all the details, and there is a CARP LOAD of those.

The whole problem started when I, the fantabulous Monique, and my mildly-less awesomeful cousin Angel set out on an expedition to visit our somewhat distant relatives, who lived in Canada. Comment on our intelligence or lack thereof if you want. We had never met these people before in our lives, had only a basic idea of what they looked like (all of our pictures of them being several years old), and wouldn't be able match the names on the back of said pictures to the faces for a million bucks. _Each._ Looking back on this little adventure, I can understand how it all went so wrong, but that doesn't change how TOTALLY SPAZZED OUT we both were when it happened. ...Well, she spazzed, anyway, but she got over it soon enough. And now I shall take the liberty of explaining...

"Toothbrushes!"

"Check!"

"Glasses and lens cleaner!"

"Check!"

"Hairbrushes, Cousin It?"

"You suck, vacuum cleaner! Check."

"Uhm... clothes?"

"No, I didn't pack any of those; I figured we'd both just walk around naked-"

A book sailed through the air at my sarcastic response, aiming for my bright red head and missing its mark by several feet. It crashed into the counter behind me; upon the sound of pages hitting the floor, Angel flew past me to pick it up and cradle it in her arms, muttering about how she was sorry she'd thrown it and how she'd never hurt it again and so on and so forth. I swear that girl was smarter before she bleached her dark brown hair to blonde... But, whatever. She was easier to corrupt this way. Hehehe.

In fact, the bleached hair and resulting blonde brain were more than likely the reason I'd been able to convince her we needed to go visit our relatives, eh. ...Get it? Canada? Eh? ...Yeah. The plan was very simple: Angel, being older than me, would drive us to the airport, where we would flash our pretty passports and tickets and get on a plane to the land of the Maple Leaf... and the Marijuana Festival... Did I mention that both of us had trademark accessories? Angel's (other than the long hair that went down to her thighs) was a small Tinkerbell purse that somehow had enough stuff in it to weigh about ten pounds. Ah, my older cousin! Almost twenty and more innocent than most American thirteen year-olds. Me? I was close to eighteen at the time and had a black belt with neon green pot-leaf print that I wore just about every day of my life since getting it. 'Nuff said.

So. Anyway. After finishing the checklist, we loaded all our junk into the car and set off for the Atlanta airport, about a two-hour drive from our house in the middle of nowhere. About FOUR hours later - the reason they call traffic 'murder' is because that's what you want to get out of the car and do - we made it to our destination. Guess what happened then? The flight was delayed. So we sat there, waiting, for another two hours until our flight was finally ready to take off. We snatched our stuff (we were not already on the plane, as they had been checking the flying contraption over for problems that might make it explode - I know, right?) and dashed toward the plane as fast as we could, but THEN... we had the 'accident'. In our rush, the two of us just happened to bump into this young couple, also hurrying along with their possessions. And when I say 'bump into', I mean 'run headlong into them and send all four of us crashing to the floor'. The suitcases, bags, and whatever other containers copied us, falling on the ground; most stayed shut, but others ejected their contents to create a jumbled pile of belongings that were no longer sure who they belonged to.

A flurry of 'I'm so sorry'-s and 'it's my fault'-s were exchanged as we all scrambled to gather up what was ours, which we (thought we had) achieved, and in as little time as possible we were back to racing toward our respective flights. Angel and I made it to the little desk-y thingy without any more troubles and quickly showed the lady our passports and tickets. She frowned at the latter and handed them back to us along with the little blue booklets. "Your flight is over there, luvs," she said in a mild British accent, pointing to another desk and attendant about three planes down with one hand and picking up the phone with the other. "It's nearly time to take off! I'll call and ask them to hold on a moment for you, but you'd best hurry."

Not wanting to risk missing the plane, we grabbed our junk again and ran to the other check-in-type-thing. "I thought you had the number memorized?" I called to Angel as we jogged over, feeling a frown on my face. Ditzy bleach blonde or not, she had a memory like fly-paper, and though it only seemed to attract things that she found interesting or important, I figured the flight number was pretty important. Thus, I was quite thoroughly confuzzled as to how she could have possibly taken us to the wrong plane.

"So did I!" she panted back, frowning herself. "But-" But we didn't have any time to argue about this now, because the lady behind this desk looked ticked off that we had delayed the flight by a whole two minutes, and demanded our passports and tickets. Again we surrendered them, and again the passports were handed back, unaccompanied by the tickets this time. "Go on," the woman said in a displeased tone, waving someone over to put our big suitcases on the conveyor belt. The carry-ons we had went through a scanner about the same time we did, and as we had nothing that would get us arrested (that they could see... mwahaha- er, I mean... I'm innocent?), we were allowed to reclaim our tiny bags and scurry onto the plane.

Upon taking my seat, I rummaged around in my backpack for an item familiar to both my cousin and myself - a battered and abused green notebook with two pencils, one light green, the other light blue, stuffed in the binding rings. "Ah, the beloved fanfiction notebook!" I exclaimed dramatically, waving it in front of Angel's face. She immediately made a wild grab for it, but I snatched it back, laughing. "My turn first, sista," I said, assuming my 'gangsta' persona. My lovable yet somewhat violent relative promptly brought her fist down on the top of my head, and I surrendered the book to her.

"You know I hate it when you talk like that," she growled as she took hold of the blue pencil and began flipping pages. "That whole 'homie' thing, and the... ugh, just, no."

I shrugged. "Whatever," I said as I grabbed my pencil as well and started chewing on it out of random boredom. "Whadd're we wridin'?" I asked around the wood.

"Naruto," she replied instantly, and I pouted, taking the pencil back out of my mouth.

"But I wanna write Death Note," I complained, tapping her shoulder with the eraser. "Or Black Butler, or Bleach, or... something other than ninjas!"

"Naruto fanfics own and there's nothing you can do about it," she said dispassionately. "And Naruto fics are what we're going to write." Thus began the argument that drowned out all other sounds; the people behind us demanding that we shut the fuzz up, the people in front of us begging that we shut the fuzz up, and - here's the important one, folks - the voice on the intercom that told us our destination. Guess where we WEREN'T going? Canada. The plane took off, and my elder cousin and I were unknowingly embarking on the coolest trip of our lives, homies. For reallz.

**~~Meanwhile, back at the airport...~~**

"CANADA? EH? WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR TICKETS TO SPAIN?"

...Yeah.

* * *

"-be arriving in Madrid in approximately-"

"MADRID?" Angel squeaked, turning to me with green eyes wide. "As in, the capital of Spain, Madrid?"

I racked my brains, trying to remember my last geography test. "Uuuhhmm... Yeah, that sounds about right."

She seized my shoulders in a vice-grip and shook me back and forth. "We are supposed to be in Canada, not Spain! Can you PLEASE try to sound a LITTLE concerned that we're on the wrong fuzzing CONTINENT?"

Laughter came pouring out of my mouth; I couldn't hold it back. "Dude, are you kidding?" I exclaimed, prying her hands off and running my own through my vibrant red hair. "This is so totally awesome! We are in SPAIN, baby! Land of of the sexy-sounding language!"

The blonde twitched as she looked over my head to see out of the window; her head turned left to right in hopeless denial. "But... how did this even happen?" she asked, sounding dazed. "We..." And right then was when realization hit. "FUZZY MUSHROOMS!" she swore, slamming her head back against her seat. "The couple at the airport! Our tickets must have gotten switched when we ran into them! Jashin dang it, I KNEW I had the flight number right! Augh..." She put a hand up to her temples, which I could practically see throbbing from the stress of the situation. ...Well, stress for her, anyway. Personally, I was bouncing up and down in my chair, watching in anticipation as the colorful land got closer and closer to the window.

"Eh, so what if we're on the wrong continent?" I asked, grinning at Angel. She glanced up at me like 'Are you nuts?' "Come ON, girl! This our chance to have a little fun, cut loose, ya dig?" Aaaand cue the fist to the head again. Fortunately for me, I've got a pretty dang hard head, so I barely noticed the blow, instead letting out a happy squee as we started to land.

Roughly thirty minutes later, we were wandering aimlessly around Madrid, neither of us having any clue where we could even go. The fact that neither of us spoke or understood more than a few words of Spanish was decidedly NOT helping my dear older cousin's mood; Angel was practically having a heart attack as we shuffled through the streets with our baggage. "Ooohh, Nikki," she mumbled/moaned at last, the two of us having come to a busy section of the city. "What are we gonna do? We-"

"DUDE, NOT COOL! GIVE IT BACK!" yelled a loud, spastic voice.

Her head, previously hung, snapped up instantly. "English!" she shouted, heaving her duffel bag off the ground and slinging it over her shoulder with her backpack. "Somebody speaks English! Let's GO!" She broke into a run, thigh-length hair streaming out behind her like a ray of sunshine. ...Wow, I'm poetic. Who knew? I myself followed Little Miss Sunshine at more leisurely pace, my own shoulder length hair bouncing as I went.

When I caught up to her, the first thing I noticed was the big group of cute guys she was standing in front of, nearly all of whom appeared to be in some kind of fight over... something I decided I didn't care about. The second? Well...

"Ah! _Dos bella damas-_"

And even though there was more to it, that was about all I heard, 'cause you know what I saw? Super-cute guy: brown hair, green eyes, speaking sexy-sounding Spanish and smiling at me, and - when he started coming toward me and ended up tripping due to that fight I mentioned - _really nice butt._ ...Hey, you'd think so too if you saw it!

"Onhonhonhon! Spain, zat was not ze best way to impress ze young woman," a wavy-haired blonde laughed at Mr. Sexy-Speaker. I stepped backwards when he laughed and gave him the 'touch me and you die' look for good measure. He laughed like a RAPIST! However, the hot one was apparently unfazed; he simply jumped back up and scurried on over, smiling like nothing had happened.

"_Hola, Señorita!"_ he said, randomly grabbing my hand and kissing it. Unlike the French rapist-sounding man, I was unopposed to physical contact with this cutie and didn't yank my arm away. "Wh-"

"Hey, who're you guys?" the spastic voice from earlier interrupted loudly. I glanced over that way and saw another blonde with shorter hair and glasses looking at us with a confused expression. He was pretty cute too, but not as much as the Spanish guy who still had my hand. My cousin seemed to think otherwise, as was obvious from her instant blush, but cherry-faced or not, the girl never lost her voice.

"Excuse me! I'm sorry we're bothering you, but-"

Blondie jumped out of the stilled fight (everybody froze when they noticed us, apparently?) and pulled out a couple of random chairs at an even more random table, patting one. "Nah, no problem!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "The hero always helps the damsel in distress! What's up?" Angel was in the chair next to him in about 0.4 seconds, explaining everything from our collision at the airport to our being lost and not speaking Spanish and having nowhere to stay, at which point she was interrupted by the guy. "Hey, no biggie! You can just come stay with us!" he said with a big smile.

I glanced at the building behind them that I somehow hadn't noticed before. It was enormous, and it looked almost like a palace or something - needless to say, it was quite impressive, even to my hard-to-impress cousin. When I heard her accept his 'generous offer', I glanced back at the man with the cute butt. He was grinning in a very pleased manner.

"_Muy bien, Señorita!_ It seems we will spending some time together!"

I thought to myself: _'This. Is. The. Best. Trip. Ever!'_ And the fun hadn't even started yet. ...Yes, you can take it that way.

* * *

"So you guys are like, representatives for each country in some kind of world conference, and you just call eachother by your country's names?" I asked, beginning to sum up the last hour of conversation, during which I had been introduced to most of the representatives and told about any that weren't present. We had all moved inside and now sat on a bunch of big cushy couches; Spain, or Antonio, to use his real name, was right next to me, while Angel sat across the room next to Alfred, AKA America. After he explained his role in this mess, Alfred had said something about video games, unintentionally starting up a very animated conversation with my relative; thus, the two of them were completely ignoring the rest of us. I shook my head at her. She hated it when I used gangsta lingo, but when Alfred did it (which was every other sentence), it just seemed to turn her on. Premonition: they will end up in a room with a bed in it before this is over... Not that she's easy, but something about the way she kept looking at him just told me she was about to get a black mark on her otherwise snow-white record, courtesy of Alfred F. Jones. Or should I call it a red mark...? ...I'm such a perv.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," England replied with a nod.

" 'Kay... and... France, Prussia whom I have not met, and Spain-" I paused and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye; he smiled in a deceivingly innocent manner. Seeing him in my peripheral vision, I had a sudden urge to lick him. ...What? That happens to me with everything, inanimate objects and people alike. (Angel hates it, because we usually walk side-by-side, and she doesn't enjoy being slobbered on. Not that that stops me.) Unable to help myself, I leaned over and licked from about his elbow up to his face, which, like everyone else's, was now home to a shocked and disturbed expression. Although... was he smirking now? Apparently he enjoys being licked? Cool, he's crazy! "-make up a group you call the Bad Touch Trio, for self-explanatory reasons?" I continued as though nothing had happened.

Relative silence reigned for several minutes. Then, "That's it!" Alfred exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Consider yourself officially challenged!"

"Challenge accepted," Angel shot back, also rising. "Just tell me when and where."

"My room, right now!"

Cue two-thirds of the room's population busting into perverted laughter. I am clearly not the only one!

"Onhonhon, America! You move fast, _non_?" France practically giggled. Nevermind that he was on the other end of the couch, I still scooted toward my end some more. Rapist does not turn me on, although pedophile apparently does, as evidenced by my dragging Antonio with me. "Try not to go too fast, zo- Zey just ran off."

**"Hey, Angel, guess what!" I screamed at my cousin before she could vanish around the corner. She stopped dead in her tracks to look at me with a 'what-the-fuzz-do-you-want' face, Alfred standing impatiently beside her. I merely grinned, took a deep breath and without warning screeched: "Lace Trap! Paul Revere's famous quote! British invasion masters! We live in America! And you're about to walk off with him!" The look on her face was epic, but to make it even better England says: "What exactly _did_ Paul Revere say?" Me and Angel both grinned and at the same time blurted out "THE BRITISH ARE COMING! THE BRITISH ARE COMING!" I continued by saying casually, "In, (here I paused for dramatic effect) AMERICA!"**

**The look on England's face was priceless! The whole room burst into laughter as England and Alfred's faces both lit up like fires. Antonio and France both seemed to laugh the hardest. Then, one poor, uncomprehensive voice asked, "What's-a so funny? All I heard was-a someone named Paul screaming Britain's coming in America, Veeee~!" and the rest of the room just laughed even louder.**

**"Is that Feliciano?" I asked Antonio with a slight grin.**

**"Yes, that is-"**

**"Then where's Lovino?" I practically screamed in excitement.**

**"Well, Lovino usually tries to keep his distance from me," Antonio stated.**

**"Hehehehehehe, and what, did'ya pull his ahoge?"**

"OKAY, I'm getting out of here before this conversation goes any further," Angel said loudly at the mention of the hair curl. I noticed that her face was kind of red. Courtesy of the Britain comments, perhaps? I didn't have to wonder about Alfred, who was still rather crimson himself as Angel gave him a push down the hall. "Video games," she said commandingly, and he nodded, blush fading as his competitive spirit returned to him.

"Yo, that's right! You and me are still gonna play some games!" The blonde-haired, glasses-wearing duo scurried away to the sound of more laughter, but I don't think they even noticed.

Once they were gone, England threw me a worried glance; the pervy comments clearly had him in an 'oh-no-what-if-something-actually-happens' frame of mind. "Ah, Monique-"

"Call meh Nikki," I interrupted.

"Very well, NIKKI," he continued, stressing the nickname and tossing his glances down the hallway now instead at of yours truly. "Will your cousin be alright if we leave her alone with him?"

**"Yeeeaah," I said, examining my fingernails... while lying on my back and using Spain's head (the one on top...perverts!) as a footrest.** Holy crap, that purple polish has been on there for like a MONTH! "He tries anything and she'll knock him into next week. Maybe even next month! She doesn't do the random hook-up thing." _Although I've never seen her look at a guy like that before, so I don't really know what to expect...?_ That little bit of doubt must have shown in my face, because scarcely five minutes later, England got up off the couch and headed down the hall after them. Technically I guess it was my problem; I was the one related to the girl, but he seemed more qualified to worry about it, and I decided to let him. _Angel dearest, you just became Arthur's problem, for I must focus on a sexy Spaniard! Don't do anything stupid. ...And if you do, for pity's sake use protection!_

**~Day One - Tourist~**

Spain. ...The country, not its representative. Frankly, it's beautiful, as I discovered when Antonio cheerfully suggested taking me on a tour of his home, which I just as cheerfully agreed to. It was fairly warm, unlike Canada would have been, which pleased me; I'd never been big on cold weather. And it was so colorful! The city bustled with activity, and the people passing by were like rainbows personified, dressed in the same kinds of bright clothing that could be seen in shop windows and at various stalls in the busy marketplaces. And the language! Every time I heard someone speak, I couldn't help but stop to listen and think how I REALLY needed to learn how to do that.

"-like one, Monique?" Antonio said, interrupting my eavesdropping on a couple of teenagers.

"Baka-say-whaa?" I responded out of habit, then facepalmed at myself for unintentionally calling him an idiot. That was my famous line at school when the teachers called on me and I wasn't paying attention. Since none of them spoke Japanese, it was easy to insult them without them knowing. ...Not that I spoke it either, but hey, I knew more than they did. Hehe.

The brunette cocked his head sideways like a puppy. "_Perdon_? What... did you say?"

"I asked what you said," I replied, not revealing my unintentional mistake, and he smiled.

"Oh," he said, and pointed towards one of the shops I mentioned. "I noticed that you seem to like the (here he said something in Spanish that I didn't understand but thoroughly enjoyed listening to) and asked if maybe you wanted one?"

I blinked. "Um... one _whut_?"

"The outfits you keep looking at." He grinned, and I just knew he was going to take advantage of the fact that I didn't know anything of his language. "Money, it is no issue, so if you like I can buy you one."

On one hand: Angel has told me time and time again not to 'impose' on people. On the other, he's offering, so it's not really imposing, and those clothes are flippin' awesome. Decisions, decisions... "YES PLEASE AND THANK YOU!" I shrieked, hugging his arm. He grinned widely and pulled me off towards the store, where I found myself a sexy-looking get-up that, with my somewhat tanned skin (in contrast to my ghostly white cousin; I swear, if she put in red contacts and sprayed sparkles on herself she'd be a Meyerpire), almost made me look like a native. Needless to say I was pleased with it, and Antonio seemed to be just as happy from seeing that I liked it so much. That, or I looked hot in it and he liked THAT.

The next stop on the tour was lunch, which also made me veeery happy. What can I say? I like food. And for the record, anything in America (again, country, not person) that claimed to be authentic Spanish food is LYING! My new favorite person generously treated me to the BEST _mole_ I have ever had in my LIFE! ...Yes, yes, I know I'm using a lot of capitals and exclamation points! The tacos were glorious, and the mango thingies that I have sadly forgotten the name of are the REASON I forgot what they were called. Mind-erasing goodness! Oh, and did I mention that we shared a dessert? Yep, fried ice cream! Weird name, kinda weird flavor and texture, but delicious nonetheless, which I told him with a big smile on my face.

"Oh, you like it?" Antonio said, grinning back at me. "_Muy bien!_ I'm glad." He stuck his spoon back into his half of the stuff - or tried to. Rule number one: DON'T. GIVE. ME. SUGAR. There will be consequences if this rule is broken, as he found out the hard way. The spoons clanged loudly as I smacked them together and knocked his hand away from the sugary treat.

"Yes indeed, Antonio," I said, purposely making my grin seem menacing. "I _do_ like it... And if you want any more of you're gonna have to fight me for it!"

He blinked, looking shocked. "What do yo-"

"SPOON FENCING!" I shouted, holding my 'weapon' out. "Do you accept my challenge?"

Again, the Spaniard blinked... then smirked, following suit. "_Si_... Let's go," he said, his voice taking on a deeper tone. I swear to you, if I had not been that sugared up and thus getting ready to spoon-fight, I would have tackled that man right then and there. ...And heck yes I mean it that way! **So. ****Flippin'.**_**Sexy.**_

Maybe it was a good thing we had those spoons, and were out in public. I mean, I _had_ just told my cousin not to do anything stupid, and I'd hate to be a hypocrite.

~Back at Home Base (yes, that's what we're calling it :P)~

England crept slowly down the hall, trying and failing to banish the inappropriate images from his mind. America was ALONE in his BEDROOM with a WOMAN! Nothing good could come of that, nothing! Of course, Monique had promised that nothing would happen between Alfred and her elder cousin, but... Well, it couldn't hurt to make sure the boy was behaving himself, could it?

The Brit began to tip-toe as he neared America's door, stopping all unecessary noises to better hear what was going on behind the rectangular wooden barrier. _I'll only listen for a tick, and if it's all clear I'll-_

"Faster, Alfred! You have to go faster!"

England's heart stopped for what seemed to be a full minute before sputtering back to life and hammering spazzmatically against his ribcage, feeling on the verge of arrest. He leapt the remaining four feet between the door and himself in a single bound and raised his fists to the white-painted wood, (A/N: OH NOES, THE PICTONIANS HAVE BEEN HERE! XD) bringing them down on it desperately. "Alfred! Open the door!"

Several seconds passed before the reply came. "Nngh... Go _awaaaay_, England!"

Arthur seized the doorknob and twisted it violently, but to no avail. It was locked, which only served to make the green-eyed man more frantic, as evidenced by the way he resumed beating on the door with both fists. "ALFRED F. JONES OPEN THIS BLOODY DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

Much to his surprise, the door did open a few seconds later, revealing an irritated - and fully clothed - America, an Xbox controller in his left hand, as he'd opened the door with his right. "What do you want, Iggy?" Sirens and screeching tire sound-effects issued from the television, in front of which Angel was sitting, a controller in her hands also and an expression of intense focus on her face.

_A racing game,_ Arthur thought to himself, feeling heat rise to his face. _It was a bloody racing game!_ Now what was he supposed to say? "I, erm... I-"

"Hahahaha!"

Both countries glanced up at the stream of giggles that left the nineteen year-old's mouth; the sound was followed by an all too familiar victory jingle from the TV. The other nineteen year-old glared daggers at his unwelcome visitor. "Dude, for reallz, that was totally not cool. You just made me lose - to a girl!"

England raised a hand to his mouth and coughed a few times, trying to clear his voice of the embarrassment that he knew would be obvious. "Ahem... Yes, well... apologies, Alfred," he said awkwardly. "I'll... just... go." So saying, he dashed off before either of the American teens could reply.

So passed the first day with the representatives. How long the girls were going to stay even they weren't sure yet, but already they knew that there would never be a dull moment. ...How many times must it be said? That is meant in the perviest way possible.

* * *

And _voila!_ The first chapter! There should be a total of... four or five? Not sure, since I'm not entirely finished with this yet. Anywho, hope you're liking it so far and that you come back for the next installment. _À bientôt! ^ ^_


	2. Let The Games Begin

Bonjour again, lovely readers! *lowers voice* I managed to give France the slip, but he's a stalker, so I have to get this over with quick! I would like to thank SilverMoonKitty and Microwaves for favoriting and Microwaves again for reviewing too. You guys? Awesome. And with that word comes one of those pervy jokes I promised.

Like good Hetalia fans, we know that Prussia proclaims himself to be awesome, right? Well the other day I saw an outdated cereal commercial that proudly said about its product, "It's a mouthful of awesome!" Keeping Prussia in mind, I challenge you to think of all possible meanings of that phrase... and NOT die laughing or blushing if you're a Prussia fan-girl.

Anyways, on to the chapter! Oh, and as with all my other stories, review replies are at the end of the chapter.

* * *

**~Day Two - Truth or Dare~**

Morning arrived, and I discovered that Spain had a schedule I could live with, unlike America. Here in the land of sexy speech, people did not have to wake up and head to work at such ridiculous hours as 6-8 A.M.; rather, everyone chilled out until... eh, maybe 10, and then got ready to open up shop at 11. As I said, that is definitely something I could deal with for the rest of my life. Feeling much more upbeat than usual due to my added hours of sleep, I pulled myself out of my bed (and a very nice, soft, plushy bed it was. Wouldn't mind one of those back home!) and walked over to the chest of drawers that I'd crammed all my junk in.

"Whiiich one, whiiiich one?" I asked aloud in a sing-song voice, looking at my clothing options. Blue jeans and pot leaf belt were a given, but which shirt? Blue and gray striped strappy-thingy with built in bra, lime green (hehehe... lime...) tank top, or white tank top and meshy peach overshirt? ...Eh, too lazy to find a real bra. Strappy-thingy reigns victorious!

Again, cheerful thanks to the extra rest, I did a random dance down the hallway to the living room thing, singing snatches of random Shakira songs as I went until I decided on Good Stuff. Ah, such a pervy song, but so awesome because of it! _"Tell me all your wishes, I am here to make 'em true; Don't wonder; You don't have to rub a lamp 'cause I'll take care of you; Nobody knows, nobody knows, nobody knows, nobody knows; Tell me what you think, I'm one of your kind; You know a girl like me is difficult to find; I bet you've never seen nothing like this before, I bet you've never met someone who loved you more; You know that I'm a witch and I can read your mind, boy; Where do I have to sign? I'm on b-_AAAAAAHHHHH!"

In case you were wondering, my song was ended prematurely when I found myself in the living room with all those present (China, Japan, Switzerland, Russia, England, Italy, and the wavy-haired rapist himself) watching me shake my bum. That wasn't what made me scream, though. No, the reason behind that was a pale dude with silver hair and red/purple eyes (and a tiny yellow bird on his head...? Eh, whatever.) standing in the middle of the room, wearing tight black pants _and no shirt._ DAAAAAAAAANG was he hot stuff! Naturally, I broke off what I was doing and ran towards him at top speed to glomp him. "PPRRUUSSIIAAAAAAA!" I screeched. It was the first time I had seen him, but as I mentioned, we were briefed on every representative, even those who weren't present yesterday. There was no one else he _could_ be!

Now, being his 'awesome' self, Prussia AKA Gilbert caught me as I glomped him, then proceeded to raise one shiny silver eyebrow at me. "Who the heck are you?" And, being one of the Bad Touch Trio, his eyes dropped from my face and he smirked. "Kesesese... And-"

"AAH! Prussia, _mi amigo_, put her down!" Spain shrieked, having come into the room. He hurried over and tried to snatch me, but Prussia jumped away, still hanging onto me. At this point I decided that maybe glomping Prussia wasn't the greatest idea in the world, but, at the same time, I now had a hot German and a sexy Spaniard fighting over me in an odd way... Which, let me tell you, was more awesome than said Germ himself. ...Yes, I call them Germs. It's just more fun that way. And speaking of Germs, who should walk into the room but Ludwig? The buff blondie's expression went hard like steel when he saw me in his brother's grasp, and immediately - no, seriously, I blinked and he was there - he was right next to Gilbert, clonking him on the head with his heavy fist and yanking me out of his arms. He didn't bother to help me land on my feet, but Antonio was there to stabilize me, instantly jabbering something about 'was I alright', to which I responded in the positive.

_The votes are in - Antonio Carriedo wins._

"Ow, West, o- HEY! OOWWWW!"

"Vhat do you zink you ver doing? Idiot!"

It was to this scene of Antonio holding me and Germany pretty well kicking Prussia's butt that Angel and Alfred entered, engrossed in a video game-related conversation until they saw what was going on. Upon that, Angel raised an eyebrow at me; her expression said that she KNEW whose fault this was and if I screwed up again while she was watching, we'd be copying the brothers. America just laughed that Prussia was getting his butt handed to him. Then, just like that, we all got bored, and after raiding the kitchen for anything that might be edible, (meaning we didn't so much as glance at the scones) we returned to the living room, now joined by pretty much everyone else. Still bored and not knowing how to alleviate the feeling, we all just sat there staring at the walls, ceilings, and/or eachother. And THEN, America said it.

"Hey, yo, dudes! Wanna play Truth or Dare?"

Let the games begin. Mwahahahahahaha.

(line break)

"Whooooo's going first~?" Alfred sang out, looking at everyone expectantly and pouting when he didn't see any volunteers. "Alright, fine! I'll just have to pick somebody!" He assumed a serious, contemplative expression that looked extremely wrong on his face and regarded us all as we sat in our huge circle in the floor. "...England!" he yelled out suddenly, flinging a hand out and pointing his finger at the thickly eyebrowed man. "Truth or dare?"

Captain KIRKland (Stardate: 23...54...point...8) put his hands up and shook his head. "Oh, no, Alfred; I'm not participating in this rot-"

"Scaredy cat, scaredy cat! England is a scaredy cat!"

Obviously, Alfred really knew how to push the other blonde's buttons, because Arthur's expression went from 'no fuzzing way' to 'bring it on, sasuke' in about 0.5 seconds. ...Oh, yeah. Angel and I substitute 'Sasuke' for '***ch', because the world knows he is. Anyway, moving on. "Alright, fine," England said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dare."

I have never seen a more devious look on anyone's face before in my life - and I practice those in front of my mirror. "Hahahaha! Alright then... I dare you to-"

"Bite France's man-boob!" I shouted, barely containing laughter at the mortified expression and demented smirk on England and France's respective faces. "Do it, do it, do it!"

Angel shot me a dark look, like 'I can NOT believe you just said that', but she didn't actually say anything. 2 points for me! America, meanwhile, grinned demonically, quite clearly approving of my suggestion. "Do it, Iggy," he said, pointing at everyone's favorite rapist. "Bite France."

"MAKE _HER_ BITE FRANCE!" the Brit sputtered, waving his arms frantically in my direction.

"Ahahaha, no way, dude! The dare was for YOU! You did agree to play, England," Alfred reminded his childhood caretaker, shaking a finger at him. "Now come on, bite France or chicken out and show everybody that you're a wuss. Which is it gonna be?"

This, my friends, is when I learned that Prussia truly is as awesome as he claims to be. Sitting next to England in the circle, he let out a psychotic laugh and shoved said man across the circle towards the rapist. Now, it just so happened that England screamed when he was pushed, which, by definition, meant his mouth was open. I'm sure you can guess what happened when he crashed into France, right? ...No? Well, he didn't bite his man-boob - it was a liplock, and let me just say that even my somewhat pilgrim-y cousin laughed at the look on England's face when he managed to get away from France (who, frighteningly enough, didn't seem to mind). This face said that he would like nothing more than to go crawl in a hole and die... But aside from the occasional giggle at him as he rocked back and forth on the couch (having run from the circle immediately), we didn't pay England any more attention, because now it was Prussia's turn!

"Truth o-"

"DARE! Kesesese!"

"Okaaay... um... Hah! Kiss Nikki!"

Nikki perked up at this slightly - no, I didn't forget that Nikki is me - though I did momentarily forget that Spain had won the man contest about an hour ago. Prussia did his laugh again and came across the circle towards me, only to be pushed back by none other than the Spaniard, who was scowling fiercely. "Something else, America," he demanded. Right about then, I got irritated and shoved past him toward Gilbert.

"Get over it," I said scathingly, not caring about the sad/hurt/betrayed/seriously ticked off look he gave me. "You don't own me! Finish your dare, Prussia." The silver-haired Germ readily complied, leaving me thinking that dares like that sucked for being such a tease, Angel shaking her head, and Antonio looking pointedly in another direction.

The dares that came afterwards were pretty amusing; Japan had to take his shirt off and hug Italy, Germany was forced to play the awkward foot game with France, China had to sit next to Russia for the rest of the day (he quivered the whole time, much to our amusement), Italy spent more than an hour playing 'Find Canada' (he was right next to Russia, by the way), and, of course, Canada's epicness.

"Okay! Canada's turn!" Alfred said, making some dramatic hand motions towards the quiet representative. "Truth or dare?"

"T-truth," he replied, clutching a polar bear plushie close to his chest. There was a collective groan from almost everyone in the room; truth is so boring! Alfred sighed at his twin brother, hanging his head, but quickly looked back at him with a menacing gleam in his eyes.

**"Alright, bro, you asked for it. Have you ever smoked dope before! Everyone knows that you've always got the best o' the best!"**

Panic flitted across Canada's features. "N-no!" he exclaimed (meaning that his voice actually reached a normal volume). "No, I haven't-"

**"LIAAHHH!" I screamed, jumping to my feet and thus surprising everyone. "You liieeeee!" Boldly, I marched across the room to stand in front of Canada, pulling the all-too-familiar bundle of buds (that just happened to smell of pineapples and honey), broken up and packed in a pretty glass pipe with a hole on one side and a little bubble of blue glass on the other, and blue flame emblazoned lighter out of my back pocket. Lighting the plant matter, I then proceeded to dance like a Dusk, waving the stuff in front of Canada's face. "You know you want iiiiiit!" The small trail of smoke drifted up from the glowing bit. I felt my face fall, so I took it and with one end to my lips, put the flame back to the plant pieces and sucked in, hard.**

I didn't really have to look to know that the other people in the room were giving me a 'WTFuzz-where-did-that-come-from' look; I could feel it. ...Except for Angel. She, being used to this, was completely unaffected. I didn't really care anymore though, so I blew the smoke in Canada's face. Nobody but me noticed the small breath he took when the grey-colored haze fanned around him. However, everyone HAD to notice when the swirled glass was suddenly snatched out of my hand by the quiet blonde, who was currently regarding the contents of said glass with an expression like that of Gollum to the Ring. Needless to say, Canada and I had some interesting conversations after that.

Given our state, we missed pretty much the rest of the dares; we were honestly just starting to make sense out of the world again when we heard someone say "Let's call it a day, hm?" A murmur of agreement ran through the circle, which quickly ceased to exist as the people who had been creating it got up and shuffled off. Now, stoned though I had been, there was _one_ thing that I hadn't been able to help noticing.

Antonio hadn't so much as looked at me since I let Prussia kiss me. And the look in his pretty green eyes was decidedly depressed.

**~Night of the Second Day (36 Hours Remain XD)~**

"I'm sad," I remarked to Angel, lying spread-eagled on her bed and staring up at the ceiling. She made a huffy kind of sound and pushed me into the floor, where I landed in a jumbled heap and didn't bother un-jumble myself.

"Serves you right," she said in a haughty, yet airy tone of voice as she plopped onto the bed herself. "Honestly, what'd you expect, kissing that Germ? Inigo Montoya was bound to be displeased, especially seeing as how he specifically asked for a different dare."

I just sighed, feeling carpy from knowing she was right. I mean, yeah, Prussia's kisses were (you're gonna hate me) awesome, if that one was any indication, but he was all... Prussia-y. Meaning self-entitled and kind of annoying and... just... look, even if I'd only known him for a couple of days, Antonio cared, okay? And in my moment of mental void, I forgot that. Thus, I was sad for making him sad, and really wanted to do something about it. But what?

As if she could read my mind (which I wasn't entirely sure she couldn't), Angel slid off into the floor beside me and poked my shoulder. "Y'know..." she said contemplatively, "Alfred told me earlier that they were going to have a meeting tomorrow morning about... worldly concerns. He showed me the conference room..."

"...And what?" I asked, finally flopping over to look at her. There was a smirk almost worthy of me (oh no, I've got Prussia syndrome...) beginning to stretch across her face, which made me wonder if I wanted to know what kind of things she was scheming.

"Wweeellll... There's a big, oval table with a round hole in the middle big enough for someone to move around, and, quite inexplicably, a _pole_ that either goes from the ceiling to the floor or the floor to the ceiling..."

I blinked. "You're not suggesting...?"

She smiled sweetly, a halo appearing over her head - and landing on the horns sticking out of her hair. "He _did_ buy you a pretty outfit... And I'm sure I can get Alfie-"

"_**Alfie**_?" I interrupted despite myself. She blushed faintly.

"Yes, Alfie," she said defensively. "Anyway... I'm more than certain I can get him to help us get you in there..."

I forced myself into a seated position and clapped the nineteen year-old virgin on the shoulder, grinning at her. "And here I thought you were the innocent one," I said, only half-joking. "Obviously, I've rubbed off on you. Your plan rocks; let's do it!"

**~Day Three - The Conference~**

As promised, when the next morning arrived, all our favorite representatives marched off to the conference room, leaving Angel and myself with nothing to do... except, of course, prepare me for my 'get Antonio back' plan. This consisted of me getting into the sexy Spanish outfit he had bought me that first day, Angel attacking my hair with brushes, combs, and other implements of destruction, and, just when I thought things couldn't get worse, Angel attacking my FACE with make-up. Normally I do that myself, but today my cousin insisted that she be the one to apply the junk, saying that it had to be flawless. I just kind of shrugged at that and let her do what she would; it wasn't like I could argue with one of the world's most OCD perfectionists. All in all, getting me ready took somewhere around two annoying hours, but again, I couldn't really argue or complain if I wanted to patch things up with my _chico caliente_. ...Look, I learned some Spanish! Aren't you proud of me? ...Ahem. Anyway...

Angel scurried down the hallway beside me, jabbering the specifics of the plan to me for the umpteenth time. I am not ashamed to say that I wasn't listening; MY plan was to go in there, look good, and wing it from there. When we made to the rather impressive door that was the entryway to the conference room, Angel tapped on said door with her fingernails three times. Mere seconds later, we heard the familiarly spazzy voice of Alfred (_Alfie_, I corrected myself sarcastically, throwing Angel a look out of the corner of my eye and miraculously resisting the urge to lick her) yelling out something that made everyone else groan/grumble irritatedly. The door opened partially, and while Alfred stood in the doorway making excuses, I slithered into the room on my hands and knees, making my way under the table to the pole in the middle of the room. The door closed - and that was my cue.

_"Sexy can I?"_

I started my music, because what's pole dancing without some tunes? ...Oh come on, don't give me that look! It's not like I'm stripping here, just dancing! ...OH, you just wanted to know where the music came from? Hehe, I knew that... Knowing that I would need music, I brought my MP3 player and speakers in with me. So, we all clear now? Good. Moving on!

Grabbing onto the pole, I spun around and pulled myself up in the process, finally stopping when I was facing Spain. His expression was kind of a 'WTFuzz', but after I leaned back, both hands on the pole and one leg off the floor resting on it, and said in as sexy a voice as I could manage, "_Hola, Señor,_" he looked very pleased with what he saw. A smirk spread across his face as I began my epic [fail] dance, consisting mostly of me spinning around the pole and shaking my butt every few seconds, though I threw some chest movement in there too. I had reached the middle of the song and was really starting to have fun when the unthinkable happened: I stretched out my leg and, smooth move, exlax, hit my MP3. Calm down; I didn't break it or anything, but something almost as bad happened. _The song changed._

Now, instead of panicking like other people would have done when my music cut off in favor of another song, I simply... improvised. In other words, I let go of the pole and started what Angel referred to as butt-dancing (I'm sure you can figure it out) while singing along and directing the lyrics at the first person I could think of that it fit - England.

_"Tell me what you think ya' lookin' at? _

_So I think I'm Queen Elizabeth! _

_And now I'm stuck inside ya' memory_

_That's why it's so hard to get rid o' me_

_I am incredible, so unforgettable_

_So no one can take my place_

_I am unbreakable, highly flammable_

_So, girl, get out my face_

_Oh my gosh I'm goin' crazy_

_Maybe 'cause we're so amazing_

_Everybody in a daze and that's the reason why they hatin'_

_Treat us like some superstars_

_And only 'cause that's what we are_

_You know we goin' really far_

_And y'all ain't even heard it all_

_You hate 'cause I'm a rock star_

_(A rock star)_

_A pretty little prop girl_

_(Uh-huh)_

_You hate 'cause I'm a rock star_

_(A rock star)_

_A pretty little prop girl_

_(Uh-huh)_

_You hate me 'cause I'm everything that you ever wanted to be_

_And that I'm lyin' 'cause I love it when you're lookin' at me_

_'Cause I'm a rock star_

_(A rock star)_

_'Cause sucker I'm a rock star_

_(A rock star)_

_Keep lookin' at me!"_

I have to say, Arthur Kirkland makes some really epic faces. The rest of the room noticed this too, because they were all laughing at him... or, y'know, maybe they were laughing at me. Eh, whatever. The meeting was declared over by a somewhat red-faced Germany, who regarded me with new... respect? Must not have met many people who were as awesomely shameless as me; then again, how many are ther- DANG IT I'VE GOT PRUSSIA SYNDROME! Anyway, people began to file out of the room, either grinning or shaking their heads at me as they did until the only ones left were Spain and yours truly. He still had that smirk on his face as he stood there, waiting for me to crawl across the table, whereupon he plucked me off the edge of it and set me on the floor, holding onto my hips.

"_Gracias, Señorita,_" he said in a deep-ish tone of voice that nearly melted me. "But can I ask one more thing?"

"...Hmm?" I managed to respond.

He leaned down closer, his smirk widening as he commanded quietly, "No more kissing unless the one you're kissing is me."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Hmm," I said, pretending not to be sure about that. "I don't know... Are you any good?" Again he leaned down, but this time his lips found mine.

Screw Prussian kisses. NOTHING beats a Spaniard.

**~England~**

Arthur shook his head, one hand massaging his temples. As similar as they were, Monique and Prussia would be the death of him yet - unless that bloody Frog beat them to it, of course. Speaking of Monique - if she was in the conference room, where was her cousin? The blonde stopped dead in his tracks. _She showed up right after America left the meeting! What if he's-?_ Cutting that thought short, he took off at a run down the hall, cursing America. Without a doubt, he'd run off with that girl!

He sprinted towards America's room, fully expecting to find them there, but much to his surprise, the room was empty. Had they gone to hers? Again, he dashed down the hall, becoming thoroughly puzzled when Angel's room was devoid of glasses-wearing teenagers as well. _Where could they have gone?_ he wondered, his thick eyebrows knitting as a frown creased his forehead. Still pondering this odd little mystery, Arthur began to walk, simply following his feet rather than focusing on where they were taking him. It was in this way that the Brit found himself close to the kitchen, but no closer to an answer-

"Mmm... Alfred..."

-that is, until he heard the familiar voice from the other side of the wall and nearly jumped out of his skin. Images of the two blondes making out sprang up instantly in his mind, and he himself sprang around the corner, fully intending to hit America upside the head a few times (A/N: Smack, smack, smack! XD), but he stalled out when the scene before him was not like the one he had envisioned. A container of ice cream sat open on the counter; Alfred was attacking its contents with a spoon and putting them into a bowl. Meanwhile, Angel, already holding a bowl and spoon of her own, danced about happily.

"This is so yummy! I've never tried this flavor before!" she exclaimed happily, almost squealing in ice-cream-loving delight.

"Haha! I know, right? This is one of my favorites!"

England sighed and slumped with his back against the wall, hand to his head once again. _You're getting paranoid, old boy._

**~MOVIE NIGHT!~**

It was a dark and stormy night... no, really. A random thunderstorm decided to come pay us a visit, and let me tell you, it meant business. Howling wind, rain lashing against the windows, and frequent lightning strikes with resulting crashes of thunder were what it brought with it, which ruled out the tour of the city at night we had been discussing earlier in the day. Thus, I took it upon myself to offer an alternative course of action when a somewhat sad-looking Italy asked, "What are we-a going to do-a now, Veee~?"

I glanced towards a random bookshelf that just happened not to have books on it - no, it had something even better! I jumped up off the couch, where I had been happily snuggled in Antonio's arms, snatched the first two cases I saw that looked even halfway interesting, and held them up over my head like I was in a Zelda game. ...Without the levitating part, though. If I ever figure out how to do that, I'll be sure to let you in on the secret too. "MOVIE NIGHT!" I screeched at the top of my lungs; I think I busted Switzerland's eardrums, and probably Japan and China's too. Eh, whatever.

My suggestion was met with smiles, nods, and a "Fuzz yeah!" from Prussia. I grinned, pleased with myself, and ran over to the DVD player, stuffing the first disc in without even looking at what it was. Then I had to launch an expedition to find the lost remote - not surprising, considering the place was full of guys. However, I am still kind of lazy, so I enlisted Germany, Italy, Spain and England to help me look, meaning that I made them search the room while I gave everyone else their orders.

"OKAY peoples, let's get this thing rolling! America! Dude, go get us whatever junky snacks you can find!" He grinned, nodded, and dashed off to the kitchen. "Switzy, Francy-pants! Push all the couches and chairs so they make a big semi-circle in front of the TV!" Reluctantly and because of the death glare I shot them, they obeyed. "Canada! Grab some pillows so we can all get more comfortable, 'cause I dunno about y'all but sitting on that couch for extended periods of time makes my butt hurt!" With an adorable, innocent little smile, the not-so-innocent Canada hurried out of the room. "China-" I started, but was interrupted by Italy's delighted call and thus forgot what I was saying.

"Nikki, I found it! Veee~!"

"SHWEEET!" Roughly seven minutes found the lights turned out, us all piled up on the comfy-fied furniture, me next to Antonio (duh) and Angel next to Alfred (bigger duh), and the majority of us munching on some sort of unhealthy food. "RIGHT! So! Everybody ready?" I asked loudly, waving the remote around. There was a flurry of movement and mumbled responses that I took to mean yes. Grinning triumphantly, I pressed the sideways triangle button that represented 'PLAY' and squeed gleefully as the movie started. I heard laughter from behind me; immediately afterwards, arms wrapped themselves around my waist.

"You," Antonio said quietly, breathing on my ear and making me wriggle. Hey, it tickled!

"Me?" I asked. He laughed again and put his chin on my shoulder.

"You are cute." Ah, I do love my Spaniard!

_30 minutes later..._

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Half the room's occupants shrieked, but none louder than myself. Idiot that I am, I unknowingly put in _The Amityville Horror_ for us all to watch, and, as you might have gathered, I was currently screaming my head off. It did NOT help that the thunderstorm was still unleashing its fury, and it REALLY DIDN'T HELP that the house in movie looked freakishly like the house I had grown up in as a child. (A/N: No joke; if you stood in the backyard at her old house and looked at it, the resemblance would be uncanny. SCARY CARP, MAN.) Thanks to this fact, I was thinking back to some odd occurrences in my youth: noises that my family didn't make, and, and-

"WHAT IF SHE WAS IN MY CLOSET WHEN I WAS LITTLE?" I screamed across the room at Angel, scared out of my mind - well, until I saw what was happening on her end of the couch. My terror was temporarily forgotten from seeing her predicament. Turns out? Alfred is _terrified_ of ghosts, a fact which he shamelessly made us aware of.

"NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-OH-MY-FUZZING- NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! TELL ME THAT DIDN'T EVER ACTUALLY HAPPE- AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

America cried out in fear at the images on the screen, and, unable to watch any more, threw his arms around Angel's middle and buried his face in her chest. Have I mentioned to you yet that Angel - who is almost _TWENTY_ - has never been in a relationship before? Yeah. Given this fact, I'm sure it's not surprising to you that the sudden, somewhat intimate contact had her face glowing such a bright red that I could see it despite the darkness in the room. "Alfred-!" she tried to protest, but she was drowned out by more screams. Hearing these sounds of horror, I turned my attention back to the screen - and joined everyone else, letting out a blood-curdling shriek.

Some amount of time later, during a rather quiet and uneventful scene, all eyes in the room traveled back to Alfred and my cousin, who apparently couldn't take that contact anymore. "Get off!" she exclaimed, making a few of us jump as she pushed him away. The puppy-dog face he gave her said very clearly, 'Betrayed!'

"B-but-" he stammered, reaching out towards her with one shaky hand.

"But nothing!" she said, drawing her knees up. "You cannot possibly be THAT scared of a MOVIE; you just wanna stick your face in my boobs! Stay over there, perv!"

I honestly thought the boy was gonna _cry_ there for a minute, but, again, I lost most of my interest in the two of them as a loud crash came from the direction of the television, grabbing our attention once again. Predictably, more screaming ensued, and after a few minutes, Alfred actually did start crying from sheer terror. Being that she is secretly soft-hearted (and realizing that he couldn't be faking), Angel tapped him on the shoulder [here he squealed and flew a foot off the couch] and opened her arms, inviting him back. In a fraction of a second, they were right back where they started.

At long last, the movie ended, leaving us in silence save for the sounds of the continuing thunderstorm. I chanced a glance around the room; the only people who weren't trembling and/or didn't have a disturbed expression on their faces were Germany, Russia, Japan, and my own traitorous relative. How dare she not be scared when I was freaked slap out of my mind? Before I could voice this outraged thought to her, she pushed America out of her lap again and strode leisurely over to the DVD player, removing the disc.

"You guys are hilarious to watch horror movies with," she informed us all as she put it back in its case and slid it back onto the shelf. "Really, that was great. You should have seen some of your faces!"

"Weren't you scared at all?" Alfred asked in a quivery voice.

Dang girl shook her head and smiled at him, waving a hand. "Please. You're talking to the girl who went through a phase of checking out nothing but ghost stories from the library when she was a child - and enjoyed them." She grabbed the other movie case and peered at it in the light the TV provided, then smirked and looked at me. "You," she said, holding back laughter, "are a glutton for punishment."

I clung to the first thing I could grab - which turned out to be Antonio's arm. "WHY?" I shrieked at her as she placed the second movie in the mechanical device. "WHAT IS THAT ONE?"

Calmly and infuriatingly, she went back to her spot on the couch, getting into as comfortable a position as she could with Alfred hanging onto her again before answering. "You picked _The Crazies_," she said nonchalantly, but I could see the smirk come back.

"And what is that about?" I asked warily, shrinking back slightly against Antonio. After wrestling his left arm out of my grasp, he slid them both around me in a comforting embrace.

The smirk became a full-fledged sadistic grin. "Your favorite movie monsters~!" Angel practically sang, bursting out into laughter when I screamed, "ZOMBIES?" as loudly as I possibly could. My Spaniard's hug just lost all its comforting powers.

America perked up, coming out of his 'hiding place'. "Zombies?" he asked in a hopeful tone of voice. "Not ghosts?"

She shook her head, still grinning at me. "No ghosts, Alfie. Just... ZOMBIES, NIKKI! !"

_I hate you,_ I thought at her savagely. Perhaps proving that she can read my mind sometimes, she started laughing - and, so did _Alfie_. ...I'm sorry; that nickname and the fact that she uses it is just... no. Just no. "Great!" he exclaimed happily, releasing his hold on Angel and getting comfy. "Zombies, I'm good with." Tell me, is it just me or does she look depressed at the loss of contact? ...Wait, I don't care! She should suffer for putting it in after she saw what it was,_ suffer!_ Of course, I'm the one with the remote; I could just-

"The menu's been on for like, three minutes! Start the movie already!" Prussia said impatiently, lunging across the couch and snatching the remote out of my hands. _Click,_ came the condemning noise, and the nightmare began.

_Some 2 hours later..._

Music started to play, devoid of sound effects, and I gathered that the credits were finally rolling. Desperately hoping I was right, I turned my head to look at the screen instead of Antonio's shirt. Names were indeed scrolling past, and I let out a sigh of relief, giving a little shudder. "Man, I hate zombies," I complained.

_"She got a corpse under her bed; She had her fun, but now he's dead-"_

"SHOOOOOSH!" I screeched at Angel, squeezing my eyes shut and flailing wildly in her direction. "Do NOT sing House of 1000 Corpses at me after what we just watched!"

I heard her scoff. "Please," she said, and I could practically hear her roll her eyes. "You didn't even watch half of it, little miss scaredy-cat!"

And at this, I had to open my eyes back and send her my best death glare. "Oh, and I assume you saw the whole thing?" I asked acidly. My glare deepened when I saw her sitting in America's lap, leaning back against his chest with his arms loosely around her middle and a smile on both their faces. _Well, don't YOU TWO look cozy?_ I thought at them scathingly. Then again, I guess I can't really say anything; I did just spend like, 4 hours snuggled up with Spain...

"Yes," she answered matter-of-factly. "And I only jumped twice, for the record." Faking a coughing fit, I spat the word 'Liar!' out at her; she just shrugged and attempted to extricate herself from Alfred - attempt being the keyword. To sum this little fiasco up, she tried to stand, he tried to stop her, and (don't ask me how it happened other than they're both clumsy) they both ended up in a heap on the couch, limbs tangled to the point that no one could tell what belonged to who, hips squished together, and a blushing Alfred on top. Cue perverted laughter from the rest of us again.

After that, Angel growled out a 'good night' and pulled a dissapearing act, leaving Alfred at England and France's non-existent mercy. Hate eachother though they might, the two make pretty good team when they put their minds to it. It wasn't long after they started teasing him that poor little America scurried down the hall too - and left me with a devious plan forming in my mind.

"Anybody feel like helping me scare someone else half to death?" I asked casually, letting my gaze sweep the room's inhabitants.

"Kesesese! I'm in!"

"Is a little mean, but... da, sound like fun."

Oh yes, it will be very fun, Russia. _Very_ fun... Mwa. Ha. Ha.

* * *

Mwahaha indeed; whatever could Nikki be plotting? Being that she is the criminal mastermind here (and Prussia and Russia are helping) this could get ugly if you're afraid of ghosts. ...Which, of course, America is. My my, this _will_ be fun~!

Microwaves - Haha, thanks! I always go for humor (because I can't seem to live without it), and I'm pretty confident in that, but I wasn't sure how Spain was turning out. Nice to know I did something right ;) Glad you like the characters, and thanks for even reading in the first place! Hope the update was quick enough; hopefully I'll have the next one out before too long ^ ^


	3. Situations AKA How To Traumatize A Brit

Hey guys! Sorry this has taken so long; I have started my summer job, and I'm half-zombie right now -_-

Japan: Excuses. You are a sracker.

Me: Oh, hush! I'm not done talking! Readers, please take note that this is only part 1 of chapter 3; Skulls keeps changing her mind about what she wants to happen next, so the end is not yet written. I'm about to the point of just writing what I want and saying screw her, but... *shrugs* It was supposed to be a gift-fic, so I'm trying to be nice.

Japan: More excuses...

Me: YOU WANNA WRITE IT?

Japan: ...No.

Me: Didn't think so. Now keep your trap shut until I make you do the disclaimer.

France: My, you are testy today, _non_?

Me: *death glare* Bonnefoy, I am not in the mood for you right now. You hush too, before I find Germany's dog and sic him on you.

France: *un-manly squeak* _Oui, madame!_

Me: *satisfied smile* Good boy. Now, Japan. Disclaimer please, and dirty Hetalia-related jokes.

Japan: *sigh* destinykeybrade does not own Hetaria or any of the characters in this fanfiction, other than those representing Skurrs and herserf. Arso, anyone who is uncomfortabre with sexual imprications may not want to read this chapter. There is no content, because destiny epic fairs at writing it, but the warning must be given nonetheress.

Me: Japan, I said jokes!

Japan: ...I don't want to.

Me: Y'know, I doubt Germany's dog is going to notice that you're not France if I splash his rose perfume on you...

Japan: ...Severar weeks ago, destiny was praying an educationar game meant to teach her my ranguage. One of the sentences she was supposed to say was very simpre, but due to her mind was taken in a perverted way. This sentence was "China is big."

France: Onhonhonhonhonhon~! ^^

Me: Thank you, Jap-

Japan: There was another one that destiny attempted to transrate herserf-

Me: *pales* Wait, don't tell that one-!

Japan: It was supposed to be, "I rike France," but-

Me: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!

Japan: *doesn't miss a beat, raising his voice* -she said it incorrectry; instead of 'rike,' the word she used meant 'want.'

France: *mentally puts sentence together* I want Fra- Oh, _chéri_, why did you not say so sooner? Onhonhon!

Me: No, it was a screw-up-!

France: Love is never a mistake! Come, let us-

Me: NUUUUUU~! *runs for the hills with France in hot pursuit*

Japan: *smiling victoriously* Prease enjoy the fanfiction now, readers. *bows* _Arigatou gozaimasu._

* * *

_RRRRRMMMMM..._

Thunder continued to rumble ominously, occasionally roaring its apparent displeasure at the nation representatives and their two guests. One of said guests let out a sigh and repositioned herself, trying to get comfortable. Sleep, for some reason, was eluding her, though she couldn't fathom why. Storms were among her favorite weather conditions, and especially at night. Listening to the voices of the thunder and the wind, being lulled to sleep by the rain's pounding rhythms... Angel sighed again, giving up on comfort and flopping onto her back to stare at the dark ceiling. With one hand, she made a grab for the bedside table, fumbling around until she found her iPod, going to her insomnia solution: When all else fails... Count bodies like sheep.

Within 30 seconds, her headphones were on, the song had been selected, and the familiar beat started up in her ears. _Km. Km. Km. Km. Km. Km. Km. Km. Km, km-km km, km, km-km. Km, km-km-km-km-km, km, k-k-km-_

_BAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!_

"ANGEL LET ME IN PLEEEEEEEEEEEASE!"

She flew a foot off the mattress when her dark yet soothing music was interrupted by frantic knocking and shouting; heart racing, she stumbled across the room to her door and opened it. Immediately, something zoomed past her and hid in the corner of the room, shaking like a leaf. "...Alfred?" she asked, squinting at the quivery thing. She was, like several of the people in the building, practically blind without her glasses, which currently lay on the table the iPod had been atop. "Is that you?"

_GGRRRRRMMMMM!_

At the powerful thunderclap, the invader (A/N: that word is so wrong after Prussia) scrambled onto the bed and covered himself in the blankets, creating something akin to a cave. "Yeahit'sme! CanIstayherewithyouPLEEEASE?" he squeaked, identifying himself, indeed, as a very spazzed-out Alfred. Angel blinked and walked over to him, yanking the blanket cocoon off and looking at him with her hands on her hips.

"What the _fuzz_ are you doing here at... (here she squinted at the digital clock) ...2 AM?"

He shuddered, though from cold or fright she couldn't tell at that point. "My room is haunted!" he whimpered. Definitely fear. "_PUHLEEEAASE_ let me stay here with you!"

The girl/woman/thing put a hand to her temples. "Alfred, your room is not haunted-"

"YES IT IS!"

"NO IT'S NOT!" she yelled, matching his volume and making him jump. With a growl-like sigh, she grabbed his hands and yanked him off her bed. "We just watched a movie about ghosts, okay? You're having nightmares-"

"You have to be asleep to have a nightmare!" America protested, giving another little shudder. "And I was totally not asleep yet when I started hearing all these creepy noises and moans and scary whispering and-LLALGH!" The odd sound that issued from his mouth was the result of being viciously pulled forward by a now irritated sleep-deprived female. He nearly lost his balance, but managed to right himself - and, upon doing so, found to his horror that the doorway was coming towards him. "Wha- WAIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" he squeaked, trying to wrench his hand out of Angel's grasp, but to no avail.

"I am proving to you that your room is perfectly normal," she answered calmly; however, her tone held an underlying message: _Screw with me and you DIE._ So it was that, trembling and letting out the occasional pathetic whimper in the hopes that it would change her mind, America was drug down the hallway back to his room. After several agonzing minutes, they arrived at his door, still slightly ajar from his mad dash for safety. He shivered, wrapping his free arm around himself for both comfort and warmth as Angel fearlessly stepped into the room, pulling him with her.

The first thing both of them noticed was the temperature. It was inexplicably cold in Alfred's room, so much so that Angel dropped his hand to wrap her arms around herself. Strappy tops similar to the one Nikki had worn the day before and short shorts were not suited to anything below sixty-five degrees, and the room had to be near forty. "Why is it so cold in here?" she asked, glancing at the other blonde out of the corner of her eye.

"Because it's haunted," he answered in a quiet, shaky voice. "Seriously, let's get out of here before-"

_"Don't leave..."_

Both teens jumped, moving closer together. "What was that?" Alfred squeaked.

"Your imagination," Angel replied, refusing to admit that she was spooked. "Calm down-"

_CCRRRRRRR-KKK..._

America latched onto her arm at the loud creaking sound, casting panic-filled blue eyes around the room to try and find the source. "Holycrapit'sstartingagain! CanwegetoutofherePLEASE?" he begged, quaking.

"I-"

___KKKKKRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSHHHH_!

The duo jumped again at the violent thunderclap that rattled the windows. Speaking of windows, Angel glanced up at one, intending to watch the lightning flashes and time the thunder that followed to determine how close the storm was. However-

"HOLY CRAP WHAT IS THAT?"

The window was illuminated by lightning. In the brief but bright light it provided, something was visible, pressed against the glass. A pale, slender hand, partially coated with... blood? Two more strikes followed almost immediately after the first, revealing that the hand was not alone. A ghostly white face now joined it at the window, crowned by hair that was half fluffy and white, half matted crimson; the blood ran down from a hidden wound, leaving harsh streaks of red on the ashen flesh. Then the darkness fell again, as though the fury of the thunder had frightened it the light away.

Alfred was not visible, but he didn't have to be. The expression of sheer terror on his face was almost more audible than his voice as he whispered, "_Now_ do you believe me?"

_KMPH._

Still more jumping ensued as a result of the sound of something heavy hitting the floor to their left. As one they whirled to face that direction, and-

America's heart stopped beating for what felt like an eternity before starting up again at twice its normal speed. There, in the corner next to his bed, stood an enormous dark shape with no distinguishable features - save a menacing version of the Cheshire Cat's grin, and, above that, two glowing red eyes. A twisted giggle issued from the thing's general direction. _"Let's play a game!"_ said the voice from before, nearly silent yet echoing throughout the room. The shape raised what appeared to be a hand and pointed it towards the window with another giggle. Wondering why the _fuzz_ he did it, Alfred glanced where the figure pointed. In another, very convenient flash of lightning, he saw-

_The bloody person from outside was in the room._

He couldn't help it anymore. America let out a blood-curdling scream as both the shape in the corner and the crimson-coated figure took a step in his direction and the voice asked, _"Aww, you don't want to play?"_

"MOVE!" came the screech from beside him; pressure increased on his hand, and a sharp pain in his arm snapped him back to reality. Angel was pulling on him with all her strength, trying to drag him to the doorway, but he was rooted to the spot. He changed that quickly, tearing himself away from the sight of the things coming at them and following the girl's lead. Together they raced back down the hallways, not stopping until they reached her room, whereupon they hurried inside and slammed the door behind them.

Angel leaned back against the door, twisting the device on the knob that would lock it as she struggled to catch her breath. Alfred was right beside her, also panting from the sudden exertion of running. "Do... you think... we lost them?" he asked desperately, slipping his hand into hers for comfort. She didn't seem to notice his speech or actions, simply letting her head fell backwards, making a _thmp_ sound on the wood. After a moment, she drew in a deep breath and forced herself to stand up straight, exhaling as she did.

"Okay, let's... try to get some sleep," she said in a strong tone, ruined by the shaky sigh that broke her sentence. "You can sleep on the couch thingy-"

"No, I don't wanna be alone!" he interrupted, squeezing her hand; she jumped, apparently having been as oblivious as she had appeared. "I swear I'll be good, just let me in the bed! Please?"

Angel opened her mouth to protest-

_GGRRRRRMMMMM!_

-but one last roar of thunder shut her up. Wordlessly she scurried over to her bed with a relieved America in tow, and they quickly reconstructed his blanket-cave from earlier. "Thanks," he said quietly, sliding his arms around her before she had time to argue. "You're more awesome than Prussia ever wanted to be..." Almost immediately after that, Alfred dropped off to sleep, leaving his bedfellow with a conscience that wouldn't allow her to yell when his face fell to her chest again. Outside, the storm continued, but its fury began to wane as the thunder and lightning ceased. At last, the combined factors of the now comforting rain and the warmth from America's body sent Angel into slumber as well.

**~Day 4 - Situations~**

Though the ground was soaked and the air was somewhat foggy, the sun reigned victorious, forcing its bright rays of light through the icky fog and warming up the earth. Again bouncy due to waking up late (and remembering some of the EPIC girly screams I'd gotten out of Angel and Alfred last night, hehe), I threw on a pair of black jeans and my lime-colored tank top, then skipped down the hallway to the living room. I was greeted with giggles from my partners in crime, whom I promptly high-fived while everyone else gave us odd looks. In response, I grinned at them and, singling out the gun-happy Switzerland as my victim, said, "It's okay, man, we hid the body. They'll never find it!", winking conspirationally. Instantly the weird looks were directed at him, and I, feeling pleased, plopped down on the couch next to a giggle-fit afflicted Prussia.

Mere moments later, who should wander into the room but my dear not-afraid-of-ghosts-or-zombies cousin, the object of my amusement? I noticed and raised an eyebrow at the fact that Alfred wasn't with her, wondering why. After all, I knew for a fact thanks to my epic spying skills that he'd stayed in her room after the 'haunting' with his face in her boobs yet again. Onhonfusokese! Ah, I owe thanks to the Bad Touch Trio for their funny laughs... But anyway, back to what's happening. Angel walked in all by her lonesome and, spotting me, sat down on my other side, letting out a sigh.

"What's up with you?" I asked, feigning total innocence. "Rough night?" I regretted my choice of words almost immediately - Gilbert busted out laughing again, and I was unable to keep a smirk off my face; we were clearly on the same wavelength, thinking about what that phrase could mean given that _America was in her bed last night._ Fortunately, she didn't pay that any attention, slamming her head against the back of the couch.

"_**Yes**__,_" she growled, massaging her temples.

"Aww, what happened?" I said, struggling to keep my voice under control. _Must... not... cackle demonically..._

"Ugh... Well first off I couldn't sleep, and then at 2 fuzzing AM Alfred comes beating on my door begging for me to let him in 'cause his room is haunted, and like a moron I did! After that I drug him back to his room, and I swear I don't know WHAT we saw - I still don't think it was a ghost, but I have to admit that there was _something_ in there... Anyhow, the end result was us back in my room, and he insisted on sleeping in my bed, and I was too tired to argue with him, so-"

I cut her off, acting shocked. "Wait, wait! YOU, the touch-me-not Angel, let a BOY sleep in your BED with you?"

Her head fell foward into her hand this time. "Yes," she groaned, as though the fact had left her tainted. The worst part was that in her mind, she probably had lost some of her innocence just from that. Poor deluded pilgrim girl! You only lose innocence points if they touch you! ...Face in boobs doesn't count. Now, _hand_ would be a different story...

But anywho. Pleased that she'd even had the guts to confess that to me, I grinned and patted her on the shoulder. "Yeah, thought I'd help you out there," I said, throwing in a wink. "Glad that worked out so well."

Fury flashed across her face like a lightning strike. "That was _YOU_?" she hissed, making me blink at the sudden ferocity.

"Uh, technically it was me, Prussia and Russia..." I said, trailing off briefly while she processed the information (meaning that she shot death glares in their directions). "But yeah. I was the creepy little voice, Russia was the red-eyed thing, and Prussia was our bloody awesome ghost boy. It was fun." So is unintentionally cursing in British and figuring out that you did a few seconds later when you actually hear yourself.

For a minute there, I honestly thought she was gonna go shark and bite a chunk out of me, but then her anger faded. She didn't let it show on her mouth, but I could see the smile in her eyes and considered myself unofficially thanked. Maybe she's not as pilgrim-y as I thought.

"_Buenos dias, mi amor!_" said a playful Spanish voice. I immediately jumped up and ran over to Antonio, smiling like some kinda idiot.

" 'Mornin'!" I said brightly. Angel shot me a sideways glance; even when I've slept in, I'm not usually THAT bubbly. No doubt she thought it was the Spaniard's presence... which, of course, it was. Hey, nothin' gets you high like a hot guy who likes you. Trust me, I know. I snickered at that thought when Alfred joined the party barely a minute later and saw Angel start to smile involuntarily. Even if she upheld her word and never tried any of the drugs you smoke (killjoy), she was getting high as a kite just from being around that hyper blonde. Good enough, I suppose.

"So, _mi bella dama_, what would you like to do today?" Antonio asked, bringing my attention back to him. Still smiling, I put my hands on my hips and cocked my head sideways, staring off into space as I considered the question. What _DID_ I want to do today? Hum... maybe- nah, not that... We could-! No, wait, that would NOT go over... Well, dang it! What could we do?

"Hello?" came the question; I snapped back to reality just in time to see Spain waving his hand in front of my face, holding back laughter all the while. "Are you still on Earth?"

"In body only," I answered, deciding to let them make of that what they would. Then Angel spoke up and said, totally out of nowhere, "She was receiving a transmission from the leaders. They wanted to know if preparations were complete for the invasion."

Aaaand Gilbert Beilschmidt once again cracked up, holding his sides. "Baby," he forced out through his chuckles, "the invasion can start whenever you want!"

Another burst of laughter was heard then from across the room - Canada looked like he was about to fall over, cramming his polar bear plushie (who he had apparently named Mr. Kumajiro?) in front of his mouth to muffle the noise.

"Bro! Dude, what're you laughin' at?" America asked from his perch on the arm of the couch, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "I can't remember the last time... actually, I don't know if I've EVER seen you laugh that hard! For reallz, man, what's funny?"

The normally quiet Matthew shook his head and, incapable of otherwise answering, pointed a shaky finger at France. Bonnefoy was sprawled out on one of the other couches, sleeping like a baby, and honestly not looking the slightest bit amusing. Alfred crossed his arms, clearly agreeing with me. "And?" he said.

"H-he... he m-mumbled... HAHAHAHAH!" he tried to say, but broke down again. "I-hi... I sh-shouldn't be... hahah... it's n-not f-fu-AHAHAHA!"

By this point he had the majority of the room's occupants looking at him (le gasp, they finally notice Canada!), wondering what the heck was so hilarious, a question that Angel soon repeated. "Come on, Matthew!" she demanded finally, crosing her arms under her chest - thus pushing it up and momentarily diverting Alfred's attention from the situation at hand. I thought about smacking him for a minute, but decided in the end that he was gonna look at 'em anyways, so why bother? "What did he say?"

"It... it was in F-French, s-so..."

"___Je parle couramment le français,_" the show-off said, tossing her ridiculously long hair and grinning smugly. "Repeat it to me. I'll get it."

The weed-smoking representative faltered for a moment. "It was REALLY inappropriate," he warned, his giggles almost ceasing.

Angel just gave him a look and pointed at me. "I live with _THAT_," she said. I huffed, pretending to be hurt. "I'm used to it. _Now __tell __me._"

The blonde took a deep breath, glanced at France and promptly started to laugh again, then looked back at Angel. "He said... _gé-_ hahaha! S-sorry... h-he said, _'Gé__mir pour moi_' " Canada proclaimed. My cousin's lips immediately curled upward, and I saw her shoulders start to shake. However, before she could laugh, Matthew spoke up again. "_Gémir pour moi... Angleterre!"_

The expression of amusement quickly became one of horror; behind her eyes I could see her waging mental war with herself. I could even hear what she was saying: "Do not laugh. It is NOT funny. At all. DO! NOT! LAUGH!" The battle proved in vain. Angel glanced over at Canada, as if asking 'really?'. He nodded, and the both of them collapsed into the kind of demonic cackles I'd forced myself to hold back earlier.

"One of you wanna translate?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips. "I like a dirty joke as much as the next person, y'know!"

Angel, who had been leaning on Alfred for support, managed to straighten up. "Yeah, I'll tra-haha-nslate," she giggled. "But first: England!" The green-eyed man glanced up. He was sitting across the room in an armchair, not far from the napping France. (Greece moment much?)

"Yes, what is it?" he asked, but didn't give her a chance to answer, following his question with another. "Tell me, has that bloody Frog finally driven me mad, or did I hear my name in that mess of monkey chatter?"

Canada was nearly in tears and struggling for breath. I was really starting to worry about the guy. I mean, if he didn't get a good breath in, he was gonna die or somethin'! Angel was able to keep her composure a bit better and nodded in response. "Yes, you did. Which is why you need to come sit with us before I say that in English."

Arthur's thick brows furrowed, making him look quite comical. "Why?" he asked suspiciously. "I'm fine where I-"

"No you're not," she insisted. "You NEED to sit over here. For your safety, and for his."

England was still hesitant, annoying Prussia to the point of marching over to him and hauling him back. "Siddown!" he ordered, throwing England onto the couch. Then he pointed at Angel. "Translate!" he said imperiously.

She shot him a cold glare that said 'don't boss me around', but did as she was told. "Yeah, yeah. I can only guess at what he's dreaming over there, but Francis said _'Gémir pour moi, Angleterre,'_ which quite literally translates to..." She broke off for a second, fighting back another laugh-attack, and Prussia practically started jumping up and down.

"WHAT?" he half-screamed. "What does it mean?"

"It-"

"TELL MEEEEE~!"

"Moan for me, England!"

A momentary hush fell across the room as our minds attempted to process that information. Then, as if it had all been engineered by some outside force (A/N: It couldn't _possibly_ be the feeble little authoress... ;P), the sleeping France let out a rather... inappropriate noise, making England turn a peculiar shade of green. The rest of us... pretty much fell in the floor with Canada. Don't deny that you're laughing too! After that, about three people, one of them Germany, had to tackle our dear little Brit so he couldn't go murder France; the green had become a bright red that was one-third mortification and two-thirds PO'd. Aforementioned Germ actually managed to calm him down a little bit, upon which Arthur stalked out of the room, muttering darkly under his breath. The remainder of us, still giggly, parked our butts on the couch and turned the TV on, searching for something that wasn't in Spanish. We couldn't find any such thing, for the record. Figures.

Since I had no desire to watch shows that I couldn't understand, I hopped up from my seat and went over to a window. The ground looked a little soggy, but good enough for me. "Yo, Antonio!" I called, skipping back towards him. He glanced at me, waiting. "You got any fancy Spanish games we can play outside?"

The brunette smirked at me mischievously. "If it's a game you want, we can play a very fun one inside..."

Wow. He really IS part of the Bad Touch Trio! That's funny! And sexy... hmm... I wonder...?

"But if you insist on outside, I suppose we could all play football," he said with a more innocent smile and a slight shrug.

"Hold up dude, are you talking about actual football or soccer?" ...Do I have to tell you who that was? America frowned and crossed his arms when Spain replied drily that everyone else in the room knew what REAL football was. The bespectacled blonde then proceeded to pull an England and mumble dark, incoherent things. My cousin reached up and patted his head, quietly saying "It's okay, Alfie. It's okay." He sniffed and nodded. "Yeah, okay," he said, standing and stretching. "Sounds fun, Spain. Let's go play _'football'_." The smart-butt American put heavy emphasis on the word as well as doing finger quotes in the air. He got some looks like 'Really, kid?' from a couple of the other reps, but was largely ignored.

A few minutes later, the mob had assembled outside, several members of it complaining about the squishy-ness of the ground. They, like America's attitude, were paid little attention to as my sexy Spanish man laid out the rules of this particular game. "Alright, since we've got so many people... Hm. We'll start with an even number on each team, and if a player loses the ball or fouls three times, they're out."

"How are we s'posed to know if we have a foul?" I asked, shoving my hand into the air like I was at school. "I know how to play basically, but-"

"I'll be referee," England volunteered, smoothly excusing himself from playing THE GAME. (You just lost it XP) Before there could be an argument about it, the Brit had found a chair and gotten comfy, then crossed his arms and looked at us impatiently. "Well, are you going to play or not?"

Antonio rolled his eyes. "_Sí_, England, we're working on it. Okay, who wants to be a team captain?"

A surprising chorus of voices was heard, including those of America (I lie; that one was NOT surprising), Prussia, China, Russia, and France. ...Wait, when did he wake up? ...Eh, whatever. I spaced out as they all raised their voices about why they should lead and blah blah blah... ...Good grief that man's got a sexy butt... I am so tempted to-

"I choose Monique," said the voice of the man whose bum I was admiring. I glanced up with a 'hunh?' kind of sound, but he just pulled me over to him and slung an arm around my shoulders. I felt myself grin. Sexy man likes me! W00t!

"I want the other one, then," Prussia proclaimed. Huh, apparently he won the captain contest. Which would explain why Alfred has a pouty face. ...I guess he IS kinda cute. And he seems nice enough, if annoying. Hm... Well, if she likes him, I suppose he'll do.

"No you don't," 'the other one' spoke up instantly. "She sucks at sports of every variety. Whichever team she's on will lose."

Gil just waved his hand. "So it'll be more of a challenge," he said in an offhand manner. "I claim you anyways." Three... two... one... "Kesese... And if you want, I can REALLY claim you later!" I have SO got these Bad Touch Trio guys figured out. 'Course, it takes a perv to know a perv, but we all know I'm as bad as them already, so whatevs.

And so the choosing continued, during which I again zoned out, this time contemplating the fun I could have if Spain had an ahoge, and I wonder if America and Canada's work the same way the Italy and Romano's do, and I may have to try Mattie's later just to see, and wow I'm hungry; wonder what's for lunch, I hope England's not cooki- OOOOH, BUTTERFLY! ^^

"-all ready, then?" England asked, glancing at both the captains. They nodded briefly; I scrambled to get myself into a suitable starting position. When was the last time I played soc- football? Like... 6th grade? Oh carp... "Alright then... GO!"

With that, our mushy grass field transformed into a BATTLEFIELD for multi-national warriors who were DEAD SERIOUS about winning. Me? I was serious about not tripping over my feet, someone else's feet, or the ball; forget winning a game! The passage of time was completely irrelevant - this was solely about survival for me, and, to my great delight, I managed 'quite splendidly', as Arthur might say. Alas, I was, finally, defeated. Stinkin' Francy-pants stole the ball from me twice, and I don't really know what I did, but Iggy said I fouled and was thus out of the game. As I sauntered off the field I stuck my tongue out at him, then left it out and pretended to be a puppy, panting and barking. Somebody laughed at me, and then there was a lot of angry/spazzed out yelling as a ten-man pile-up occurred. Knowing from the lack of pained yelps that they weren't hurt, I laughed like my madwoman self as they all tried to disentangle themselves. "Get your butt out of my face!" "OOWW, THAT'S MY HAIR!" "Prease ret go of me before I hurt you. Because I wirr." Somewhere to my left, England facepalmed.

Needless to say, after the crash, the game was deemed over, (I didn't even catch who won) and the warriors became normal men once more, flopping down into the grass to rest after all the physical exertion. Normal, that is, except for their inhuman hotness. I glanced up at the sky - and frowned. "What time is it?" I asked, crossing my arms as I looked at the position of the sun. "How long have we been out here?"

"A good hour," Arthur answered, pulling a pocket watch out of... well, his pocket. "It was... about twelve when we came outside, I think? And it's close to one now."

"Didn't seem that long," Antonio remarked. A mumble of agreement rippled through the group, which I was now surveying with an even bigger frown.

"Hey, yo, where's that snarglewarp relative of mine?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips. "And the 'hero' she hangs out with?"

Poland, whom I had been pointedly ignoring (one Polish person in my life is enough, thanks) spoke up in answer. "Oh, those two like, totally ran out on us a while ago! So not cool. Like, totally lame!"

Perhaps sensing that I was about to pound me a Polock, Germany decided to elaborate. "Your cousin vas out before anyvone else-"

"Man, she wasn't lying when she said she sucked at sports!" Prussa broke in.

"-und America got out because he vas trying to talk to her und play at zhe same time. Zhey sat here for a vhile, but zhen zhey vent in."

I returned my arms to my chest and "hum..."d, glancing at the building behind me. "Aaaand when was this, again?"

Germany shrugged. "Tventy, zhirty minutes, maybe? Zhey're probably in front of zhe video games again."

My oddly colored eyes remained fixed on the structure for a moment more... and then I shrugged, satisfied enough with the answers. "If they're playing games, I say we leave 'em to it and go get some FOOD!" I said loudly, waving my arms around desperately. "I _can't_ be the only one starving here, right?"

Prussia jumped to his feet, copied almost instantly by about seven other people. "Food," the Germ agreed, nodding vigorously. "Need it NOW. Spain, where's the-"

"Pasta?" Italy interrupted, clasping his hands together and giving us all the kicked-puppy look. "Please can we have-a some pasta?" Though we all fought valiantly, the power of the face eventually reigned victorious and, feeling as though we'd just been cheated out of something, we trudged back inside to wait on the pasta that was being prepared.

Forty minutes saw us all happily stuffed with some REALLY good pasta; the feeling of being ripped off was gone. For me, at least. What can I say? I like me some carbs. As we started to make ourselves comfortable on the couches, I realized with mild surprise that nobody'd bothered to go find Angel and Alfred to tell them we had food, but then decided that it wouldn't have done any good anyways. I've seen Angel play video games many a time before, and let me tell you, she gets so sucked in sometimes that if you even try to SPEAK to the girl she'll bite your head off, whether you're offering food or just babbling. I figured that if they were hungry, they'd tear themselves away from the screen of their own accord, meaning fewer injuries and missing fingers (or heads) for the rest of us. Thus satisfied, I snagged Spain and got him to sit down and snuggle with me, which he did with few complaints. Everybody was chilled out and content. ...Well, until-

**~England~**

Arthur wandered through the maze of hallways, actually smiling for once. Italy and Spain must have put something in the pasta... But either way, he felt fairly happy not that he had a full stomach and whatnot. However, there was _one_ thing that was bothering him...

_Almost from the moment they got here, I've been giving Alfred a hard time about that girl,_ he thought to himself, biting down on his lip as the wheels in his head turned. _I shouldn't have doubted him so much. He's proven himself to be quite responsible, as far as this, ah, relationship goes. ...I ought to go apologize to him. It's only proper, after all... I'll do that now._

So deciding, the Englishman set off for America's bedroom, certain that the teens would be there with the game consoles again. Lost in cheery thoughts of how Alfred was really behaving himself, and that perhaps he'd finally grown up just a bit, England didn't notice that he was there until he saw the white door out of the corner of his eye. _Idiot, pay attention,_ he scolded himself, backing up to stand in front of the barrier. He raised his hand to knock-

-and froze as solid as a block of ice. He didn't hear that. That was not what that was. There was no WAY that was-

Color drained from Arthur's face as he realized that, yes, he had heard that, and that was _exactly_ what that was, and- The sounds from behind the door grew exponentially in both volume and intensity, to the point that he almost wondered if everyone else could hear from the living room. At the next in the series of sounds, his color returned with a vengeance, staining his face a deep, glowing red, and returning with it was his mobility. Attempting to banish all thoughts from his mind, Arthur turned and fled as though his life depended on it, heading for the kitchen. He needed rum; **_l_**_**ots**_ of rum, and he needed it _**NOW**_.

* * *

A sudden series of loud clattering and clanging sound effects drifted to our ears from the direction of the kitchen. "Who's breakin' stuff?" I called, but received no answer. I pouted, disliking to be ignored. "Francy-pants," I said to make him look up, then pointed an imperious finger toward the kitchen. "Go see who's breaking junk."

He blinked. "But I don't care," he said slowly, like he was explaining something to a child.

I simply pointed again with a more commanding air. "And I care that you don't care why? Go see what's happening in there. ...NOW, FROG!"

With a sigh, the purple-clad blonde got up and shuffled into the designated room, grumbling under his breath in French. A moment passed in relative silence before we heard a string of "Onhonhonhon"s, followed by an "_Angleterre_, _mon ami_, it is a bit early for zat, non?" This immediately made us curious (and made us remember the earlier incident involving the word 'Angleterre', thus making us wonder how they'd interact now), so more than a few of us forced ourselves to stand and followed France.

Upon entering the kitchen, I saw a bunch of bottles on the counter. Several were wine, at least one was tequila, there was something I wasn't quite sure what to call - brandy, maybe? - and joining them was a last, triumphant-looking bottle of rum, still in the hand of one Arthur Kirkland. Speaking of ol' caterpillar eyebrows, he looked... like he was gonna be sick, honestly. "Wha'ssup wit' you, mah Igger?" I asked, going gangsta for a minute. (A/N: Because he's "Iggy", y'know? This is supposed to be Skulls' character, and she would do that, so no offense meant to anyone; just supposed to be funny :D) He ignored me yet again, uncorking the bottle and taking a big swig of the stuff inside. Maybe I'm naive, but somehow I don't think it's normal to drink straight rum. I tapped him on the shoulder; he jumped and clutched at his heart. "Dude, I'm talking to you! What's your issue, man?"

His green eyes fixed themselves on my gray (on one side) and hazel (on the other) for a minute. As we held eachother's gaze, his own grew panicked, and his face turned a bright red color. Quickly after that he looked away, tipping the bottle up again. He then proceeded to sink onto a stool that was sitting next to the kitchen counter, one hand still holding the alcohol while they other now held his head. I turned to my companions. "Iggy has gone bye-bye," I informed them matter-of-factly. "Any o' y'all know how to get him back?"

"Hmm... zis usually works," France said in a dangerously cheerful voice. He flounced across the room to where England sat and leaned toward him with a flirty-sounding "_Anglete_-"

He cut off when the hand that had previously had a head in it shot out and grabbed the front of his shirt. _"__Keep__your__bloody__Frog-lips__AWAY__FROM__ME__,"_ he hissed savagely, pulling France down to look him in the eye, then tossing him backward. He took the third shot as France said shakily, "See? 'e is back, onhon..."

"Alvright, Arthur," Germany said, crossing his beefy arms over his buff chest. ...What? No, I'm not lookin' at him! Why would I do that? He's just hot as all get out... Oh, come on, people, you know Spain's my man, but Germany's still hot. "Tell us vhat's vrong vith you."

Our favorite Brit let his head smack against the counter, shaking it slowly. "No," he said, almost as a whimper. "I can't."

"Und vhy not?"

"Because I'm trying to forget it!" he shouted, suddenly coming back up for the fourth drink, which looked considerably larger than its predecessors. "I don't ever want to remember that, EVER!"

"Remember _what_?" Prussia pressed, leaning on the counter on his elbows. "Come on, England! Let us in on it! If you're drinking this early in the day it must be something interesting!"

England did not answer us, instead mumbling to himself while staring into space. However, in his string of muttering, I happened to pick out a word, which I repeated. "Did you say Alfred?" I demanded, hands on my hips. He froze up, an expression of horror on his face. "Oh, you DID?" I yelled, getting loud. I gave Arthur a taste of his own medicine, latching onto the front of his shirt and yanking him toward me. "What did you say about him?" He didn't answer and I shook him. "My cousin is hanging out with him, now what did you say?"

At the words 'my cousin', England stiffened up and started shaking his head, turning red again. "No! I can't-"

"What's going on, Iggy?"

"No, I don't-!"

"WHAT?"

"Please, Nikki, don't-"

"WHAT?"

"Don't make me-!"

"TELL ME BEFORE I EAT YOU, BRIT-BOY!"

"They..."

"THEY WHAT?" I shrilled in his face, shaking him violently. "YOU TELL ME NOW OR I'LL-"

"THEY'RE HAVING SEX!" he wailed finally, his facial expression pained and terrified.

My hands lost their grip, going numb. England dropped to the floor with a 'plmph' and didn't bother to get back up; this I noticed subconsciously. My brain had also gone quite numb, so while my senses did observe things, none of them really registered. ...I lie. It registered very prominently when Prussia and France burst into uncontrollable laughter. I vaguely considered getting a knife out of one of the kitchen drawers and killing them, but then I wasn't sure which them I meant: Prussia and France, or Alfred and...

"!" I roared thunderously, feeling returning to my hands as I clenched them into tight fists. I take this opportunity to explain to you that I have never understood the phrase 'cold fury', because when I get ticked, I get hot. My blood starts boiling under my skin, and I literally feel like I can breathe fire if the anger is intense enough. I don't think I need to tell you that this was most definitely one of those times. It seemed that every exhale was a stream of flames as I stomped down the hallways.

Being so PO'd, I was unable to pay enough attention to where I was going and kept getting lost, which gave me time to really think the situation over. On the one hand, I had every reason and right to be mad at her for this. Honestly, what was she thinking? Was she stupid? Maybe I _shouldn't_ have let her bleach her brain out, if it made her this dense!

But... on the other hand... how many times have I shaken my head and thought, "She's gonna die a virgin"? Part of me couldn't help but start to smile, because really, if she's gone this far, she's in love. I don't know about Alfred, of course, but depending on... how it goes, to put it delicately, he could decide he's in love, too. This little mishap trip to Spain might have just found that girl her man. And I suppose there's always the possibility that Arthur doesn't know what he's talking about; it might not even have happened! ...But if it did, then she wouldn't be able to say anything to me if I decided to, ah, 'play a game' with Spain, something that's been tempting me since he mentioned it earlier this morning...

By the time I finally made it to Alfred's room, I had semi-cooled off, although I was still kinda ticked. Thus I raised my fist to the door and pounded on it, my face not feeling remotely like a happy one. I didn't say a word, just beat on the door; after a couple minutes, it opened, and more of my anger was simply shocked away by the sight before me.

No shirt. No glasses. Dazed expression. Hair messy. Pants only loosely hanging onto his hips. And covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. This... was a side of Alfred F. Jones that I did not need or want to see, but according to England - and the living proof right there in front of me - someone else felt differently. When he recognized me, that dazed, drunk on life (*coughsexcough*) look in his eyes started changing into panic. "Ahahaha, oh, Nikki," he said, his voice high-pitched and nervous. And... kind of... scratchy... like he'd been yelling a lot... "Umm... what... brings you here?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, noting that he didn't even glance there. Well, at least he was gonna be loyal, just looking at his girl instead of every broad he passed. Now if only his girl wasn't my cousin. "Cut the carp, Alfred, I know she's in there," I said, resisting the urge to just push past him into the room. Cousin without clothes is not something anyone needs to see, and I wasn't even gonna take the risk. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, then back at me and nodded slightly, as though it had been a question. "Tell her to get her butt over here." I was proud of myself for keeping my voice under control.

"I, uh-" he started, but I wasn't in the mood to listen to excuses and cut him off by yelling, "ANGEL! COME TO THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW AND TALK TO ME BEFORE I KILL SOMETHING!" Aaaand there went that control I mentioned.

Noises that indicated movement came from within the room, and in a moment, two greenish eyes appeared, just barely visible around the edge of the door. Slowly, the rest of her face came into view; there was a nervous smile on her lips. When I was silent, four fingers entered the picture as well, waggling tentatively in greeting. I never wanted to find out what those fingers had been doing... I shuddered, but instantly pulled myself together, fixing her with a hard stare.

"I don't need to ask what happened; I think I can see that," I said, and they both turned slightly red, glancing at one another and making the blush worsen. "And honestly, the only thing I can say is this." I paused and glared at Alfred, then looked back at Angel, or what I could see of her. _"It better have been good."_

The nervousness left her smile, which widened to a grin as she closed her eyes and sighed, "It _**was**_. Mmm... It was..."

_Did not need to hear that. Did not need to see this. Do not want to be having this conversation!_

I shook my head, twitching slightly before yanking Alfred out into the hallway and grabbing his hair, pulling his face down to my level so I could ask him a serious question - or rather, THE serious question.

"TELL ME," I growled into his ear, "that you at LEAST had brains enough not to... contaminate her?"

The shade of red he turned was one I had never seen on a human being before. In fact, if I wasn't looking at it, I'd have said that it was impossible. "YES, OF COURSE!" he replied frantically. "I didn't! We... I mean... there was... I KNOW BETTER THAN THAT!"

I glared at him for a moment more. "Alfred," I said in a low, dangerous tone, watching him squirm uncomfortably. "...Good man! Good man," I said then, dropping the scary voice and patting his shoulder; his expression spoke of total confusion as I released him. _Ugh... my hand is contaminated now, though!_ I couldn't help but think. Glancing back at the confuzzled Alfred and the cousin that I could no longer see, I gave them a little wave with my left hand, wiping the sweat (and... slobber? Ew...) off my right and onto the wall as I started down the hallway to find **my** sexy man. With Alfred's answer - and a teensy bit more time to think about it - I had decided that I wasn't mad anymore. In fact, I say more power to 'em. Just so long as that answer is always the same, I have no problem with them. HAH, and she really CAN'T have a problem with me now, or she'll be the worst hypocrite on the planet! Mwahahahaha! Spain, here I come! ...That sounds kinky... Hee hee hee.

**~TO BE CONTINUED~**

* * *

Japan: As destiny has not returned *hides smirk* I wirr take over her duties answering the reviews. There is onry one, so it wirr not take rong.

SilverMoonKitty - Haha, that's great! ^^ Humor was the point, so I'm glad I was able to make you laugh ^.~ Sorry this chapter took so long, but I hope you liked it too! If I can ever get a final answer out of Skulls, I'll finish this up... and as I mentioned, I might just do it anyways :P So don't expect anything real soon, but definitely expect it; I WILL finish this fic. Thanks for reading!


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